Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | Wordshttp://trevorcaswell.com/words
Tue, 05 Jun 2018 00:00:00 -0700Becoming Charlemagne Reviewhttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/becoming_charlemagne_review
How does a book with the subtitle “Europe, Baghdad, and the Empires of A.D. 800” sound to you? Dry and textbookish? You would certainly think that but you couldn’t be more wrong. Becoming Charlemagne by Jeff Sypeck is anything but a dry, old textbook. I have read this book three times now and will probably read it multiple more times in the future. It’s that interesting and that good of a book.

Beginning with the coronation of Karl as the Holy Roman Emperor before going back in time to tell the story of how this Frankish king became Charlemagne the book gives us a riveting account of history in the late 7th century. Jeff Sypeck does a wonderful job using numerous source materials as well as his own insight to establish the characters and places that come alive in his book. High school history classes have really done Charlemagne a disservice, or perhaps history has, as his figure has been used as inspiration for myriad terrible and wonderful deeds or else relegated him as merely a footnote as the “Father of Europe”. Jeff fills the historical Karl out, makes him a full human, with doubts, pains, dreams and plans. The people surrounding Charlemagne are equally interesting and again their personalities and ambitions are fleshed out with letters and official documents. Don’t let the mention of letters and documents from over 1200 years ago scare you off- they are as intriguing as any modern political thriller. There was a lot going on: empires growing, empires crumbling and empires hanging on for dear life.

Becoming Charlemagne: Europe, Baghdad, and the Empires of A.D. 800 is simply an excellent book. I imagine it does everything it’s author Jeff Sypeck set out to do: it is an enjoyable read, it educates, it makes full an important historical figure who is often only one dimensional, and maybe most importantly the book shows us the importance of history. The actions of leaders long ago that are still impacting us today. The thread that led to the creation of Europe led to World War I which led to World War II which led to now. My only criticism is that Jeff hasn’t followed it up with a series of books which flesh out that thread in such an entertaining fashion.

ISBN-10: 0-06-079706-1ISBN-13: 978-0-06-079706-5

Becoming Charlemagne: Europe, Baghdad, and the Empires of A.D. 800 by Jeff Sypeck published by Ecco/Harper Collins]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/becoming_charlemagne_reviewTue, 05 Jun 2018 00:00:00 -0700Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsOrson Welles's Last Movie Reviewhttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/orson_welless_last_movie_review
Orson Welles first movie, Citizen Kane from 1941, is largely regarded as the greatest film ever made. His last movie project remained unfinished and Josh Karp’s book “Orson Welles’s Last Movie: The Making of the Other Side of the Wind” traces the making of Orson’s next masterpiece. Truth be told Orson made a number of masterpieces and Welles fans argue amongst themselves about which is truly his greatest movie. Touch of Evil, Othello, The Magnificent Ambersons, F for Fake and Orson’s personal favourite Chimes at Midnight are all contenders. The truth is that even his lesser movies have a certain magic: films cobbled together with low budgets, sometimes over years, made brilliant by the hand of genius. And Orson was a genius from his early stage plays, to his War of the Worlds radio play, to his Hollywood debut with Citizen Kane. He was a wunderkind but just like that his career went off the rails and he spent the rest of it fighting for artistic control and scrambling for money to create his projects. Josh Karp’s book finds Orson back in Hollywood in the 1970s with a new vision for a new masterpiece and perfectly captures the intrigue, chaos, vision and heartbreak as Orson made his last film, The Other Side of the Wind.

The first two chapters are an Orson Welles primer and do an excellent job of taking us from the beginnings of his life to where he was in 1970. From there we are introduced to the new project: The Other Side of the Wind. It would be a completely new style of film shot in a manner which would prove to be the next step in movies. It would star John Huston, Peter Bogdanovich, and Oja Kodar. It would be filmed by Gary Graver a cameraman with minimal experience who plucked up the courage to phone Orson and ended up getting the job. Josh does a great job of getting us into the almost whimsical nature of Orson’s hirings and firings, tantrums and delights as he kicks and claws his way through the project. The book is very nearly a “whodunnit” with the mystery being what will Orson do next? Where will he film? How will we get the shots imagined in his head? Where will the money come from? Will the relationship between Orson and Peter last?. It’s absolute non-stop drama that can’t be put down and in the vein of whodunnit to tell more would be a spoiler.

The book is an absolute must read for any Welles fan or movie buff, but even the casual reader will find themselves caught up in the drama and the “what will happen next?” of it all. This is where Josh Karp’s book shines: it is equal to and up to the task of the story it’s telling. Where the shadow (pun intended) of Orson could easily overtake a lesser book or author, here the challenge is met. It seems as if the off camera action was almost performance art in the making of the film and the book is a natural history of the entire beautiful process.

p.s. It should be noted that after years of wrangling The Other Side of the Wind has finally been finished and will be released in 2018 along with a documentary.

ISBN 978-1-250-00708-7 (hardcover)ISBN 978-1-250-01608-9 (e-book)

Orson Welles’s Last Movie: The Making of the Other Side of the Wind by Josh Karp published by St. Martin’s Press

]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/orson_welless_last_movie_reviewWed, 09 May 2018 00:00:00 -0700Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsBeatles '66 Reviewhttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/beatles_66_review
“Beatles ’66: The Revolutionary Year” by Steve Turner is not just for the Beatles fan. Anyone interested in modern history will enjoy reading this book about what was a revolutionary year in music, art, literature and nearly everything else. It takes the reader on a month by month journey of The Beatles lives as a group and increasingly as individuals from December 1965 through to December 1966. Steve Turner does a great job of taking us from their final UK tour to their final concert appearance in San Francisco while expanding on all the firsts happening to and around them.

During this “revolutionary year” The Beatles recharged themselves as individuals and then as a group, before helping to usher in the psychedelic era hinted at in 1965’s Rubber Soul album and about to be opened wide with 1967’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The 1966 album Revolver is often named as their best album and still sounds fresh, somehow from the 1980’s on it has sounded like an album that could be released by a band today. Turner’s book sheds interesting and informative light on the making of this enduring album. John’s increasing LSD use and voracious appetite for reading, Paul’s excursions into the avant garde art and music scene, George’s trip to India and lessons with Ravi Shankar, and Ringo bouncing around between the other three keeping the connection as a great drummer should.

Amongst all the artistic growth was the down side. You can understand why the 1966 Tour became their last. Turner really does a great job here of showing the chaos that surrounded The Beatles as they travelled and performed. Beginning with John’s Jesus quote and getting worse from there, you can feel the desperation of the band as they slog through the tour waiting for the end. Even events that you know of well like the unintentional snubbing of Imelda Marcos in Manila and the trouble that ensued are written about in a way that has you fearing for the boys safety.

I nearly didn’t buy this book, thinking that I have read and seen enough Beatles books and documentaries to fill a lifetime but the idea of focusing on one year seemed intriguing so I did and I’m glad I did. The epilogue where Steve basically recaps the whole book in essay form is a bit of a slog but the rest is a very good read. With any luck Steve Turner will reward us with books about 67, 68, and 69 next.

ISBN 978-0-06-247558-9

Beatles ’66: The Revolutionary Year by Steve Turner published by Ecco/Harper Collins]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/beatles_66_reviewWed, 18 Apr 2018 00:00:00 -0700Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsChapter 4http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_4
Floreat Regina: Let the Queen Flourish. Regina is a royal word, and the city celebrates its connection to the British monarchy. The name was chosen by Princess Louise, herself the namesake of Lake Louise, in honour of her mother, Queen Victoria. A grand new name for a new capital city in a new territory. The Queen City they call it, and Elizabeth II in statue rides a horse in front of the legislative buildings, carrying on the lineage of her great-great-grandmother.

At its foundation, though, the city is Oscana — the Pile of Bones. Bones picked clean by carion, bleached white by the sun. Bison bones from the great herds that covered the plains and fed the first peoples for generations. Bison bones from the slaughtered beasts that European settlers killed with disregard. Indian bones from those who starved after the bison were nearly wiped out.

Pepe walked along Albert Street, his rusty hair blowing in the warm wind. It seemed like spring but you couldn’t be sure just yet, as winter usually gets a few punches in, even after spring has started. Either way, change was in the air and early flowers were starting to pop out of the ground in yards around the city. If Pepe had been a farmer on his family land he would’ve been assured of spring’s arrival. He would’ve seen the mountain bluebirds foraging for insects, and the prairie dogs on hind legs cautiously testing the warming land. He would’ve noticed the snow had nearly all melted into riverlets making their way to the reservoir that was getting closer to full, ready for the coming crop season. From the bare branches of the lilacs outside his bedroom window he would’ve heard the chickadees happy chirping and, below that window beside the house, he would've seen the crocuses emerging freshly from the ground.

The family land had been leased out for years. His parents moved into the little farm house after his grandmother passed away and they lived there now. Pepe had spent a lot of time in that old house during his childhood summers and it held a special place in his memories — playing in the garden in the backyard and the shop. One summer there’d been a snake that lived under the lilac bush. Pepe left out lettuce for it to eat every night he was there, not realizing that snakes don’t eat lettuce. Some mornings it was still there, some of it was gone, most likely eaten by a rabbit or some other furry, little creature. As far as Pepe was concerned the snake enjoyed it.

As he got older it was the shop and the farm equipment that took up more of his time and imagination. He spent hours fiddling with the near endless supply of nuts, bolts, nails, hinges, clamps and whatnot. If some do-dads had threads that matched, Pepe would put them together. He built toy robot figurines to play with and, as he got older, his grandpa and uncle began showing him more practical things — basic repairs, maintenance and welding. He liked it. There was a good feeling in taking apart a small engine that wouldn’t run, fixing a problem and making it work again. It was all tangible — the parts and pieces laid out in front of you. They could be cleaned, repaired, replaced, oiled and put back together as good or better than original.

***

In the city no one had seen or heard from Johnny Fish. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for long periods and it made sense that he was visiting family up in Duck Lake, though Pepe heard he might be in Rosthern or North Battleford. It seemed that, depending on who you talked to, Johnny was or had been in every city in the province except for Regina. Pepe wished he was out with Johnny on one of his crazy adventures and wondered what he might be up to and if he’d really been in all those towns. He’d show up eventually and then Pepe would get his answer.

At Old Jim and Katey’s apartment, Pepe was still staying on the couch. It had been a while now and they’d gotten into a routine that seemed to work well for everyone. With the odd times of Jim’s work shifts and the early bed and morning times Katey had with her job at the bakery, Pepe wasn’t ever in the way, but he was bored and itching to get going with something. He was tired of bumming around town and more and more regretted having quit his job without any real plan of what to do next. He was sick of that old job at the pizza place and needed to get out he’d tell himself, and he still had a good chunk of money in the bank even though every day he chipped away at it a little bit more. It was a good thing Jim and Katey were letting him stay for free.

He’d slept in late and then lie warm and cozy on the couch flipping through a magazine of Katey’s trying to think of something to do before finally getting up. He picked some clothes out of his suitcase and then checked the kitchen for any baking that Katey had on the counter. There was only a loaf of bread and he curled his nose, not feeling like toast. He opened the fridge, stared into it and, not seeing anything, gave up on breakfast. He went to the bathroom and splashed some cool water on his face and wetted down his hair, looking at himself in the mirror as the drops of water ran down his face and neck. It made him shiver and he grabbed a towel to dry himself from the hallway closet on his way to the living room. He opened the curtains of the large window in the living room and stood staring out over the city for a long while before heading out on his usual path downtown.

His route had few variations — one day he’d turn at one block, the next day he’d turn at another, but he didn’t stray far from that. He had his favourite park benches and a couple of public atriums where he spent his time — elbows on knees watching the people as they passed or reading any newspapers or flyers that were lying around, getting eyed by security guards. He'd stare back at them until more arrived and then leave as the lot of them following behind. There were a few shops the had been frequenting as he made loops throughout downtown. He’d been in them all so often without buying anything that the employees were keeping a close watch on him, wondering what he might be stuffing into his pockets. He tried a couple of different cafes for a change of scenery and the anonymity was nice but it felt wrong to be spending his money anywhere other than Jack’s Place.

Mostly he walked. Hour after hour. Up and down every street of downtown and then back through them again. Looking for something, not knowing he was looking for something. He felt the weight of the buildings as they leaned in on him. He mused his future, he mused his past, along with politics, pop culture and just about anything else he read or heard about along the way. He began to read every newspaper he found and the stories churned inside his head as he wandered. All those pieces of information — things he'd never thought of before, stories that continued on from one day to the next that he mended together in his mind. His feet and legs ached but he had worked off a little of the weight he put on while working in that kitchen the last few years. He'd be his old sinewy self before long.

He’d already gone to Jack’s earlier that afternoon for coffee and something sweet to eat but didn’t stay long. He’d been spending so much time hanging around there or shooting pool at the pub that he needed to find a different way to spend the day. If he wasn’t in one of those places he was wandering in circles through downtown wasting time until he could go back to either place without feeling too self conscious. He needed a change from the monotony of another afternoon of coffee and newspapers or beer and pool.

The streets were dusty with dirt and gravel that built up over winter and the wind blew it into Pepe’s face as he walked. He blinked hard and covered his eyes with his hand. He ducked into a used record shop to waste a little time and get out of the wind. It was one of the shops he’d been stopping in every couple of days and he felt conspicuous as he looked around. He’d already seen nearly everything they had but still flipped through old LPs, CDs and DVDs. You never knew what might catch your eye one day that hadn’t the previous. A few things looked good but not good enough to buy. He pulled them out and looked at them for a while before putting them back and flipping through the bins some more.

On the walls there was some interesting memorabilia and Pepe had a browse through it all — posters, mugs and special sets from bands or from movies. He liked the action hero figurines. If a person had unlimited funds and the space to keep them he thought they’d be fun to waste money on. On the floor by the register was a box with some old VHS tapes at 50 cents each. That was a bit more in his price range so Pepe had a good look, mulling a few choices before finally pulling out a movie called Viva Zapata. He read the blurb on the back cover and checked to make sure it was the proper tape inside the box and then placed it on the counter.

“I’m actually going to buy something today,” he said.

“Yeah, big spender,” the young goth girl behind the counter answered dryly as she rang it in.

“Cheap entertainment.”

“I guess. As long as you still have a player that works.”

“Luckily my roommates do.”

“Yeah, lucky.”

Pepe looked at the floor as he slid the tape from the counter. He left the shop and paused outside. He headed back toward Old Jim and Katey’s place — watching a movie would be something different to do. He didn’t hang about the apartment much on his own. It wasn’t his place and it made him feel strange to be there too much when Jim or Katey weren’t. She might even be home from work by the time he got there and, with any luck, she’d bring some sort of snack from the bakery. He made a quick detour to pick up another cup of coffee from Jack’s Place. He was drinking more coffee than ever these days. It came with having little to do and went well with reading newspapers and books.

The cafe was almost empty with only a couple of other people inside when Pepe arrived. The lunch rush was over and Jack and a couple employees were busy cleaning up dirty plates, napkins and various spills of drinks and soups. Lenny was wiping up behind the counter. Jack took a tub of dirty dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher before grabbing the broom to sweep underneath one particular table. He didn’t notice Pepe when he came in.

“Hey Lenny,” Pepe said. “I’ll just get a large cup of coffee to go.”

“Sure thing.”

Jack finished sweeping and noticed Pepe at the counter. “Hey! Hey!” he hollered and dumped the garbage from the dustpan into a bin, banging it heavily on the edge to knock it all out. He placed the broom and pan around a corner and joined Pepe. “My treat,” he said and motioned for Len not to ring it in.

“Thanks Jack. I thought I’d get one more for the afternoon and then watch a movie.” He showed Jack the VHS tape in his hand.

“I’ve never even heard of it. Looks like an old one,” Jack said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah. It'll give me something to do anyways — life gets kind of boring being unemployed.”

Jack smoothed down his white apron with his hands. “You know if you want a few hours to make a little money I can schedule you in. I’ve got space and it would be something for you until you decide what you’re doing. Making a little money while you’re figuring things out would be a good thing right? You could work with Lenny here.” He smiled and pointed toward Len with his thumb.

“No, no. I’m all right for now. I’ve got cash saved up so I’ll just take this little bit of down time. Thanks though, eh.”

Lenny slid the paper cup of coffee across the counter to Pepe who took a quick sip. It was too hot and he placed it back on the counter. He could see the kindness in Jack’s eyes and looked to the floor. “If I start getting too close to broke I promise to take you up on it,” he said.

“All right, good enough, because it’s there if you want it. I just hate to see you hanging around, wasting time, looking bored. How much money do you have saved up? If you were paying rent how long would it last?”

Pepe shuffled on his feet. “Oh man, I don’t know. Maybe two or three months I guess,” he said.

“Well, think about that for a minute. That’s not a lot of money. You’ll go through it quickly and I’ve got hours for you. It’d be better than just hanging about and you’re in here half the time anyhow. You may as well get paid for it and get your coffee for free at the same time. I’d be happy to have you and it’s hard to beat free coffee.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Pepe nodded deliberately. “Thanks, eh. I’ll figure something out soon and I’ll think about it in the mean time. Katey said she could hook me up with some friends of hers over in Vancouver. So that might be a nice change to head over there for a while.”

“And what would you do?”

“Should be able to get another job in a pizza place easily enough.”

Jack nodded his head from side to side. “Well, sure, I guess so. You could also get some experience here and then easily get into a shop there. Lots of coffee shops in Vancouver to choose from,” he said and the two of them began slowly walking toward the entrance. He gave Pepe a good pat on the back. “Any word on your buddy Johnny Fish yet?”

“Not a peep.”

“Oh well. That’s probably all right."

"He's a good guy."

"I didn't say he wasn't," Jack said and pulled the door open. He gave a bow of his head and a wave of his hand as Pepe passed through. "You take it easy and I mean it about that job.”

**

A few blocks away, Lil sat on a bench in Victoria Park. Beside her was a statue of John A. Macdonald but she paid no attention to it. She just finished a cigarette and with a serious look on her face stared into the distance.

The previous night she saw an art show based around the Cree War Chief Wandering Spirit. It was a powerful show of images and text by Winnipeg artist Kris Rose. The image that stuck most clearly in her mind was of a bloody Wandering Spirit, a noose around his neck, stampeding as part of a herd toward a buffalo jump and his doom. A person came away with a lot to think about and that’s what Lil had been doing ever since. The world gets sold to you a certain way and it takes some digging and discovering of these little things to shed new or different light. And then you have to do a lot of reconciling as you put it all together with your previous thoughts and ideas.

She moved her feet back and forth along the pavement underneath her, listening to the scraping sound they made and creating different rhythms. Perhaps she was wasting her degree being a waitress at The Magpie. Then again, where would the world be without good waitresses; and it was a good job for studying people, and she enjoyed that. That was another reason she liked sitting on the park benches watching people and all the strange things they got up to. She imagined herself years from now, slightly stooped and pouring coffee to the regulars at some diner, her voice harsh and worn from years of smoking. She’d give out bits of wisdom from all her years of people watching. She’d have a backlog of faces and stories which she would call upon whenever needed. Whenever a young girl sat alone and teary in the small hours of the morning or some guy was in the middle of a late night James Dean impression, she’d slide them a free piece of pie and start off, “You know, I’ve seen people like you before…” Lil imagined whole scenarios, whole interchanges where she knew just what to say. The people she ministered to would scoff at first, but they’d come around. They’d hear the wisdom of what she said, they’d make their difficult decisions, their lives would turn around and she’d never see them again. Half the population of Saskatchewan along with countless random travellers would owe their ongoing happiness and success to that waitress they met at that place. She’d be the unknown God-parent to children across the land.

Lil smiled to herself — if that wasn’t good use of a sociology degree she didn’t know what was. The wind kept blowing her hair into her face and she remembered the beret she’d seen in a store window. Maybe she should’ve got it. She reached into her jacket pocket for a hair elastic and pulled her hair back into a bun. It was nearly time to go home and change her clothes and eat before her shift started. She lit another cigarette, blew a couple of smoke rings and started on her way.

The mail had arrived at her suite and she grabbed it out of the box before unlocking her door and glancing at the window upstairs to see a pair of eyes watching her. The curtain quickly shut and Lil rolled her eyes and growled to herself.

Most of the mail was junk, but there was one envelope from her landlord that seemed out of the ordinary. She went inside to the kitchen and opened it with a butter knife.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she groaned. That couldn’t be right. It was a notice for a rental increase of 50%. She sat down and read it through again with her hand on her forehead. Scheduled for six months from now but even then she wouldn’t be able to afford it. She pinched the bridge of her nose between both of her thumbs. She read it again. She threw the letter on the table and got up and paced the living room, stopping and staring toward the kitchen window, arms folded across her chest.

Lil sat back down and moped at her kitchen table for a few more minutes. She poured herself a glass of wine and sipped at it while she began cleaning the living room. It wasn’t messy but it kept her occupied. After she dusted and vacuumed and tidied up, she stretched out on the sofa. It was a 1980’s thrift store special but it was comfortable and she flipped through a magazine, looking at the pictures or staring at the ceiling as she lied there with her head propped up on a pillow. She had another quick cigarette and then made herself a sandwich before getting ready for work.]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_4Sun, 07 Jan 2018 00:00:00 -0800Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsChapter 3http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_3
Old Jim and Katey tiptoed out of their bedroom and down the hallway of their apartment. Katey giggled as she peeked into the living room where Pepe lay asleep on the couch with his mouth wide open, quietly snoring. He complained about never getting any sleep at their place but whenever she looked in on him, it seemed like he was having a good rest.

She motioned to Jim for them take their shoes and coats into the outside hall before putting them on so they wouldn’t make too much noise. It was Saturday and Old Jim and Katey both had the day off. With Jim’s shift work, having a Saturday where they could wake up in the morning together and spend the day was rare, so they decided to go for breakfast before taking a drive and doing something fun. A group of Jim’s co-workers got together for a weekly pond hockey game and Jim had thought about going, but he had enough of them this week and it was likely the ice was getting a slushy and thin. After a handful of bright, clear days it was starting to feel like the beginning of spring and the air outside had a nice warmth to it. It made them eager to get out and do something to shake off the winter cobwebs.

They made an interesting couple as they walked along the hallway, Old Jim so tall and broad and Katey so tiny and round — taking two or three steps for every one of Jim’s. She, a complete bundle of giggling, caring energy, and he, quiet and subdued, taking things as they came. They had met at a party at a friend’s place — Jim was standing by himself in a corner drinking a beer, Katey thought he was cute and went to talk with him. She talked all night and Jim listened all night, and then they went home together.

In the basement parkade of their apartment building, Old Jim unlocked the passenger door of the car for Katey and then got himself settled into the driver’s side. They owned a small hatchback and even with the seat pushed all the way back, his long legs were always a bit cramped. They headed east and stopped at a favourite diner of theirs for breakfast. The smell of bacon made Jim’s stomach grumble when they walked in.

Katey looked at him wide-eyed. “Holy jeepers,” she giggled and patted his belly.

They sat down at a table in the bright light of the front window. The waitress brought them menus and turned over two mugs that were already sitting on the table, filling each with coffee.

“We’ll both just get bacon and eggs,” Katey said to the waitress while giving a Jim a questioning look.

He nodded in agreement.

Their food came quickly and Katey washed it down with lots of sugary coffee while Jim sipped at his one cup.

“So, what should we do after this?” he asked.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. How about maybe going up to White Butte or something? If it’s not too melty and mucky we could go for a little walk about. Seems like forever since we were up there. Remember that time when I found that baby deer? I sometimes still wonder what happened to its mother. I wonder if she ever came back or if she was hit by a car or something? There were no others around and that little guy was just curled up and frightened. I wanted to pet him.”

White Butte was Katey’s favourite getaway for a walk or a bike ride, with its rolling trails that were fun but not too tough. She especially loved walking there in the autumn when the leaves on the aspens were bright yellow and you walked along in some long cathedral corridor with white pillars on either side of you, their tops covered in gold that sparkled and danced in the sunlight and breeze. The grassy trails loped about boggy areas and through thickets of rose and saskatoon bushes. The sudden flapping from the wings of a startled sage grouse would make you jump and then laugh at your misplaced fright. It was a place where you could walk quietly and collect or lose your thoughts — depending on your mood.

"Is Pepe startin' to bother you yet?" Jim asked.

"No. I like Pepe. He'll bother you before me and it sounds like he might be moving on to Lil's place before long," Katey smiled. "It's not bugging you already having him around is it?"

"No, no. He's just a little frustrating. The guy needs a shake or a kick in the ass or something."

"He'll figure it out."

Jim nodded. He mopped up the last of his egg yolks with a piece of toast and wiped his mouth and beard with a napkin before getting up to pay. Katey finished the last of her coffee and brought him his coat as they waited at the counter for the debit machine to finish. Outside it had turned a grey — clouds beginning to roll their way, still warmish, but looking like it could rain. Jim opened the car door for Katey and then paused to look around. He got in and started the engine.

“All right, here we go!” he called out, rubbing his hands together and looking over at Katey with a wide grin.

“Oh boy,” Katey rolled her eyes then reached over and scratched the beard on his cheek. She pulled on his chin so he would lean down and she quickly kissed him.

Old Jim liked to drive fast. As soon as he got behind the wheel something came over him and he got a little crazy. The traffic and lights kept him under control in the city but he was trouble on the highway. When he was a kid he had a homemade go-kart with a washing machine engine and after that he got a zippy little dirt bike. He zoomed all around the yard on those things, tearing up the ground and causing his mother much stress. As a teenager his grandfather used to give him hell for driving the combine too fast and messing up the harvest, but it didn’t change him. At work he wished they still used the speeders on the railway. Since he first saw one on TV as a kid he had wanted to work for the railway. Those speeders looked like a lot of fun and it was too bad they were replaced by trucks with rail wheels before he started there.

As soon as he and Katey got on the road she began talking. She could talk about anything and jump from subject to subject, always keeping Jim entertained with her leaps of logic and threads of thoughts, especially when she’d tie it all back to something she’d been talking about an hour, or even days earlier.

After noticing a red-tailed hawk perched on a fence post she was in the middle of a story that had started out about them, then went on to the wire used in fencing, which triggered a memory of tufts of cow hair caught in barbed wire and led to stories of her grandfather’s ranch. After a few more twists and turns and some good laughs, Katey was now defending her undying love for the music of Lady Gaga and Old Jim was laughing and teasing her about it. He loved listening to her go off.

Speeding along the highway and paying more attention to Katey than to the road, he almost missed the turn. Jim stomped on the brakes and tried to make it at the last minute, spinning around in the loose gravel that collected on the road through the winter and smacking the car into the ditch.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Katey yelled and waved her hands in the air in front of her. She paused and let out a big breath. “Holy jeepers! You all right?” she asked Jim.

“Yeah, yeah, Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. You okay?”

Katey nodded and Jim rubbed her shoulder. He grinned sheepishly and ran his hands down his face and beard before getting out. The ditch was slippery with old, crusty snow and new melting muck. He looked around the car making sure that everything seemed fine. The passenger side door was jammed against a pile of frozen snow and Katey crawled across the seat to get out the driver’s side.

“Watch your step,” Jim told her as she got out of the car. “If I’d’ve been going a bit faster we maybe would’ve rolled it. That would’ve been really exciting, eh?”

Katey playfully punched him in the shoulder a few times and looked things over for herself. “Should we call someone or do you think we can just back out of it?” she asked.

“We should be able to back out. I’ll get in front and give it a bit of push just to help get it moving,” Jim said as he walked around the car, inspecting its position.

Katey got in behind the wheel, adjusting the seat to suit her short legs. She started the car and put it in reverse but the wheels only spun.

“Ease into it and we’ll get it rocking a bit and then it’ll move,” Old Jim yelled to her from the front of the car. He had his hands on the hood and was getting himself a good foothold when he heard a vehicle coming down the road. He looked up to see that it was his friend Carl Quartermain in his beat up old truck. Jim waved him down and Carl stopped after seeing who it was.

He got out of his truck slowly and sauntered over. He noticed the telltale tire tracks across the road and shook his head. His bottom lip was full of chewing tobacco and he spit before starting to talk. “Do I have perfect timing or what? Holy shit. You didn’t really do a one-eighty? How in the hell did you do that? Jim must’ve been driving, eh, Katey!?”

Katey rolled down the window of the car. “What?” she asked.

“I said it must’ve been Jim driving, eh?”

“Yes it was,” Katey nodded and laughed. “How’d you guess?”

“Yeah, I was driving,” Jim said, shrugging his shoulders. “Just get up on the front here with me and help push. I’ll buy you a beer or something next time we go out.”

“You better. I just polished my boots,” Carl said, lifting his foot in the air to show off the worn leather of his cowboy boot.

He joined Jim at the front of the car and with the two of them pushing it worked quickly. Katey lightly stepped on the gas and backed the car gently up onto the roadside before getting out. Jim and Carl joined her on the side of the road.

“What you guys up too anyhow?” Carl asked.

“Just heading up to White Butte for a look around,” Katey answered. “Seemed like a good day to get out of town.”

“Yeah, it’s a great day for a drive — that’s what I thought, too. Looks like it’s clouding up a bit now but the morning was gorgeous, eh? I got a few things to do later but thought I’d take a spin first myself. Didn’t know I’d be helping some crazy driver get his car out of the ditch in the middle of a straight road,” Carl chuckled and kicked at the dirt with the heel of his boot. He spit some tobacco juice off to his side and pulled the tin from his back pocket. “You want a chew?” he offered.

“Naw. Thanks.”

“I don’t imagine you do,” he said to Katey.

“Yuck, noooo.”

“It’s polite to ask, eh?” Carl smiled at her. “Does Jim have you all up to date on all the goings on at work?”

“Yeah, mostly, I think. I hope you don’t end up on strike.”

“It’s nothin’ to get too worked up about. It all comes around.” He spit again and stretched his arms out to his side. “Anyhoo, I’ll let you guys carry on. You take it easy, eh, and I won’t forget that beer you owe me.” He pointed at Jim.

“Sounds good,” Jim said.

Katey waved. “See you, Carl. Thanks.”

“Yeah, see you,” Carl laughed. He stomped his feet to knock the mud off his boots and got back into his truck, spitting up gravel as he accelerated down the road.

Jim and Katey watched for a while as Carl and his rusty white truck drove from view, then Jim inspected the passenger side of the car. “Hmm, a little bit of a mark and a dent, but not too bad I guess,” he said to Katey as he wiped at the car with his hand. Katey walked over beside him and rubbed her hand over his back.

They got in the car and drove a ways down the road to White Butte. The trail was mucky from melting snow. Mud caked to their shoes, which built up until it felt like weights strapped to their feet. Katey walked with exaggerated steps as if she was some sort of Frankenstein’s monster. They stopped at the top of a small hill. Katey put her arm around Jim’s waist and pulled herself into him as they looked around. Grasses, bushes and trees. Patches of snow, ice and mud — a half-melted winter wonderland. They enjoyed the view and the quiet of the moment. Each of them breathing in the fresh air.

“How about we go over to that ridge over there?” Katey said, pointing with her free hand.

“Sure,” Jim nodded and began down the hill. He stepped onto a patch of crusted snow and his feet slid from underneath him. He fell to the ground with mud all up one side of him.

“Eek! No!” Katey squeeled again and backed away a few steps. “Come on, get up and we’ll head back.”

“Maybe you should ride in the hatchback,” Katey said when they reached the car.

“Yeah, funny,” Jim answered. “Do you know if we have a towel or anything to cover the seat?”

“Yeah, I have a couple towels in that plastic bin in the back. But I’m driving home.”]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_3Sun, 29 Jan 2017 00:00:00 -0800Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsChapter 2http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_2
Old Jim wasn’t really old, or at least not any older than the rest of them, but growing up he had a friend also named Jim, and since Old Jim was older by a few months, that’s what they called him. Young Jim was later killed in an accident at the potash mine, but Old Jim stayed Old Jim. Six and a half feet tall with wide shoulders and big arms, he looked like a giant lumberjack from a storybook.

His apartment was about a 40 minute walk from downtown. It was small, but large enough for Old Jim and Katey. There was only one bedroom and no extra room for Pepe to sleep in or store his things. He’d taken most of his belongings to his parents' house and lived out of a large suitcase that had taken up residence in the corner of the living room. He had another suitcase with a few more of his things tucked into the hallway closet.

Pepe zipped his coat all the way up and thought of calling a cab before leaving the café. He was spending enough money on coffee and lunches and decided that since he wasn’t working anymore he ought to try to save where he could. Instead of a cab, he hunkered down to walk as quickly as possible, the collar of his jacket pulled up around his neck and his head tucked down between his shoulders.

Even though he stayed with them, he rarely saw much of Old Jim or his wife Katey outside of the weekends. They were usually gone to bed by the time Pepe came in; although he heard them in their bedroom for long enough before falling asleep. Jim’s work hours changed a lot but he was quiet as he came and went at odd times. Only the sound of his size 13 work boots hitting the floor would let Pepe know it was Jim coming home, though he never heard him when he was leaving. Katey worked her own early morning shifts and would tiptoe around the apartment as she got ready for work.

He hoped they would be in bed when he got in — he didn't feel like talking. He groaned to himself when he opened the door and heard the TV. Old Jim and Katey were snuggled up on the couch. They laughed at him as he came barrelling into the apartment slapping and rubbing his bare legs to warm them up. He grabbed a pair of old long johns from his suitcase in the living room and ducked into the bathroom to change. He then wrapped himself in a blanket and sat down shivering in the arm chair, joining them in front of the TV as they watched an old episode of Doctor Who. They didn’t have cablevision and either watched TV through their computer or watched Jim's collection of old VHS tapes.

“How do you guys watch this stuff?” Pepe asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Jim.

“It’s awesome,” Katey chimed in. “It’s so funny.”

“There you go,” Jim said, pointing at Katey. “Good enough for me.”

"And Jim needs to get his mind off things at work anyway," Katey added.

"Why? What's up?" Pepe asked.

Jim waved his hand in the air. "Ah, nothin' really. There's all sorts of talk about going on strike and everyone's getting' kinda bitchy."

"Oh man, that sucks," Pepe said, and they all turned their attention back to the TV for a moment.

Katey laughed and tugged on Old Jim’s chin. “It’s his winter pelt. It looks good on him, though. I like all those flecks of blond in it,” she said and pulled his face toward her so she could give him a peck.

“And so it shall stay,” Old Jim stated firmly. “And one day they will call you Old Pep so I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.”

Katey laughed again. “Old Pep! Sounds like a dog.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pepe said.

“What did you get up to today? Anything fun?” Katey asked Pepe.

“Nah. Just bummed around. I saw Lil — she said to say hello. How about you? Did you bring any treats home from the bakery?” Pepe asked, craning his neck toward the kitchen table to see if there was anything on it.

“No, not tonight. Sorry.”

“Too bad, a sugary little snack would hit the spot,” said Pepe as he stood up, rubbing his belly. “You guys want a cup of something if I put a kettle on?”

“No that’s all right,” Old Jim answered. “Probably go to bed soon.” He stretched his long legs and wiggled his toes to show how tired he was.

And soon Katey and Old Jim went to bed, but not to sleep. Pepe made himself a cup of tea and tried hard not to hear them as he sipped it. He got his sleeping bag and pillow from the corner of the room and made himself a bed on the couch. He watched a few more minutes of TV before turning off the computer and sitting in the half darkness of a small lamp that sat on a side table. He was tired after not getting much sleep on that old couch over the past week and a bit. Half-baked plans and ideas ran through his head — vague thoughts of things he might do that were gone almost as quickly as they came. Daydream vignettes of his alternate life. He was glad they didn’t have cable vision. The TV news made him even more certain of the fact that something was wrong, that something big was happening, that they were all being duped.

Of course, they were all being duped. There was no doubt. And not a sane person in the country would have told you otherwise if they thought about it. It didn’t take a genius to know that something didn’t add up. That the system (what system? Government? Corporate elite? It would be good to have a little bit more foreshadowing as to what is gnawing at Pepe) was slanted in someone else's favour and that somehow it needed to be balanced. "Hard work," a voice in his mind said, but he argued against it. Hard work could help you claw your way against things but it didn't change the angle.

Pepe softened his pillow and leaned his head against it. Maybe he’d go, or maybe he’d stay. He didn’t know anymore, but he was itchy and something would have to be done about that.

**

The Magpie was one of the more popular restaurants downtown. When the owners told people the name, they were unanimously told not to. This is farmer territory and farmers hate those no good, crop stealing, God damned magpies they were told, but the owners liked the name and rightly figured there weren’t a lot of farmers in Regina anyhow. They also did other things right, which any restaurant needs to do: serve good food and hire good staff. It was a cozy spot and smelled nicely of the roasted garlic that they used in about half the dishes. They kept the light dim but not dark. One of the tables, a horseshoe-shaped booth, was tucked into a corner, the others were spaced evenly throughout the room and there were a few stools that stood at the small bar. The room itself was painted black with blue and white accents in homage to the colours of their namesake bird.

Lil waitressed at the Magpie in the evenings from Tuesday to Saturday. Tips were great and on the weekends there was usually someone fun who’d buy drinks as the night wore on. Tonight was a week night, things were slow and she didn’t want to be there. There had been one good table of big spenders — three guys in suits who sat in the horseshoe booth and must’ve been in town for business as they talked furiously among themselves. They were finicky and arrogant, treating her with little consideration, but at least they tipped well. She didn’t mind self-centred tables like that — they were easy. They made her laugh and were less work since all they wanted was waiting on and no conversation. As long as the kitchen did its part of cooking good food, and Lil did her part in getting it to them quickly and attentively, everything went smoothly.

She stood behind the counter polishing silverware. The monotony and the dim light were making her sleepy and she was already worn out from staying up late the night before. She was in a funny mood anyhow and couldn’t wait for her shift to end.

Ever since seeing Pepe earlier in the day she’d been feeling antsy. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was worse than usual. His mixed up energy was contagious. He’d been talking about it for a while now, how something needed to happen or change. She felt it, too. The vibrations got under her skin. She stared off into space fiddling with a cloth and the cutlery.

“Hey, wake up,” came a voice from the restaurant's manager as he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a friendly shake. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re kind of zoned out.”

“Ah, nothin’. It’s slow and I’m getting antsy.”

“You know that table with the two young couples that was in. What if I told you that they complained about your service?”

“Seriously? Those two girls were a couple of pieces of work. I just bit my tongue and served them. What did they say?”

“Nothing. I’m just bugging you.”

“You ass,” Lil said and flicked a balled up napkin at him.

“All right. When you’re finished up with that silverware you can call it a night. If you want.”

“Yeah, I think maybe I will.”

“But if you’re going home early, you get to do cleanup duty in the bathrooms, too.”

“Ugh, okay.”

The beautiful clear day had turned into a beautiful clear night, the sky full of stars and satellites, the occasional blinking lights of an airplane flying over the North Pole to someplace in Europe. “What time is it in France?” Lil wondered as she watched the lights move across the horizon. Her mind wandered further, “I wonder who would win between Napoleon and Cromwell? They both turned out to be assholes anyways.” She smirked to herself and lit a cigarette. She pictured Cromwell in his armour and Napoleon with his hand in his shirt and then a defeated, cold Napoleon on his horse, his head and the horse's head both hanging low. He could’ve been on the Canadian prairie in January the way he looked. “Was that even a real picture?” she wondered “or is it something I’m just making up?” She knew the first pictures in her mind were of real paintings, but wasn’t sure about the one on the horse. “I’ll have to look it up on the net when I get home,” she thought.

A clear night sky meant that it was cold and Lil was glad she’d worn her touque as she walked the few blocks home. She warmed her lungs with smoke. She had an Audrey Hepburn-like elegance to her smoking, minus the oversized cigarette holder and the evening gloves. Perhaps it was her tall, slender figure. She was taller than her friends except for Old Jim, and she was nearly as tall as he was if she wore heels, which was rare, and only short ones if she did. Being so tall and gangly as a teenager made her self conscious — she hunched herself over and mostly wore flats. When she got older she broke herself of the hunching habit but she never did learn how to walk smoothly in heels. Men were apt not to approach a tall woman anyhow, so why make the problem worse.

Soon she was home, her upstairs neighbours peeking out of their window at her as she unlocked her door. She waved sarcastically at them and went inside. She dropped off her things on a small table in the front hallway and went to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of merlot. From one of the drawers she grabbed a wooden box. Inside was a small, colourful glass pipe and a small bag of pot. She loaded the pipe, and took a couple puffs before putting it away.

She let the tingly, relaxing feeling wash over her and sat down at the kitchen table. She checked her phone for messages and then flipped through the junk mail and a magazine while she drank her glass of wine. She turned on her computer and looked up images of Napoleon. The picture in her mind was real. It was from a painting of his retreat from Moscow. She compared it with another painting where he and his horse stood alert in front of the Sphinx.

“The arc of a man’s life: from the deserts of Egypt to the winters of Russia,” she said aloud in her best documentary narrator’s voice and smirked to herself.

She searched around the internet for a while more, meandering pointlessly from story to story before shutting down her computer and putting the magazine on a small stack on the coffee table in the living room. She rinsed her wine glass and placed it in the kitchen sink before jumping in the shower to wash off the smell of the restaurant before heading to bed for another night of fitful sleep.

**

Morning came late for Lil. It always did. She rarely had a reason to get up early and she was usually up late, so it seemed right. It was the ringing of her telephone that woke her up, but after running to the living room to catch the call, there was no one there. It made her mad. Such an intrusive way to be woken and why did she still have that old land line anyway? She sat down on the couch with her legs stretched out and pulled a blanket over herself. She’d restart the day from there after that unceremonious wake up call.

Her apartment was tidy with everything in its place. She didn’t have a lot of things to clutter it, which helped, but she liked to keep the place organized. The only thing dingy was the old tin soup can she kept on the kitchen table she used as an ashtray. Trying to buy a proper ashtray was a lot more difficult than she would’ve thought, even at the dollar stores. A thrift store would have been a good bet but then she was told that piling up ashes in a tin can could be used as a tool to quit smoking, so she settled on the can. You were supposed to be disgusted with all the butts and the smell and reminded of how bad it was. So far it hadn’t helped her quit, but it did the job of an ashtray just fine.

She smoked a cigarette and made a cup of coffee. “Breakfast of champions,” she said to herself and held her mug up in the air in brief salute. It was another bright morning and she sat looking at it through her kitchen window. She added a piece of toast and jam to her breakfast and, after getting herself ready, she went out into the day, pulling her touque over her ears and wrapping her neck in a scarf. The streets were busy with traffic and noise. She mindlessly wandered to Victoria Park where she sat on a bench among the bare-branched trees and lit a cigarette. There was an ice rink in the park. It was empty this morning with small pools of water collecting here and there and Lil imagined it would soon be shut down for the season if it hadn’t already. One of these days she’d bring her skates and try it out. She hadn’t skated for years and she was clumsy at it even then.

She sunk down low on the bench, stretching out her legs and finished her cigarette. She’d spent a lot of time in that park during Occupy Regina — protesting the disproportionate distribution of wealth between the rich one per cent and the other ninety-nine. There were all sorts of other local issues that became a part of it but that widening gap was the heart of it. She didn’t camp as part of the big tent city that took over the place for a month but she had given a speech after writing an article about it for the Prairie Dog magazine. It was so hopeful but it didn’t stick. With any luck it planted a seed, but for now it looked more like society just peeked one eye up from its head in the sand. No one had a long enough attention span to follow through, even on things that mattered to them. The One Percenters had enough time and money to wait them out. Then the next quick fix news event would take its place and then the next one after that, or maybe people didn’t fully grasp events that happened as their messages got muddled among various groups and headlines, or maybe no one cared. That’s a depressing, she thought, but it’s true for some.

One long, final drag on her cigarette and Lil blew a smoke ring. She flicked the butt to the ground and stamped it out with her foot. She checked her cellphone for messages and quickly took a look on Twitter, wishing she had something inspiring to write. Then again, that would just be adding to the quick fix news headline problem. At least Jann Arden usually had something funny to say. She appreciated that.

Lil put her phone away and thought about heading to Jack’s place for lunch. The coffee was good, the soup was tasty and she could usually find out what her friends were up to just by hanging out for a little while. If she didn’t see them herself, she’d see someone who had.

A few more people began milling about the park, enjoying the sunlight. A man wrapped in thrift store winter wear, hair and beard sticking out in various directions and carrying a long stick noticed Lil sitting there and started toward her. “Please don’t come over to me,” she hoped, “why do they always come over to me, I don’t want to talk.” She watched him warily, wondering about the stick, ready to kick him in the knee if she needed to.

“Could I bum a cigarette from you?” he asked when he got close enough.

Lil nodded. She could see the nicotine stains on his fingers and his moustache. She pulled her pack from her pocket and gave him one, lighting it and another for herself without saying anything. Under his arm the man was carrying an economy sized jar of peanut butter.

“What are you up to?” Lil asked him, gesturing to the stick and the peanut butter while inhaling.

“Just out feeding the squirrels,” he grinned and dipped one end of the stick into the jar and then waved it around, showing Lil the peanut butter that covered it. “Winter’s hard on them, too! Thanks for the smoke.”

“Not a problem,” Lil smiled.

She watched him wander away and laughed a little to herself. It was getting on near noon and she got up from the bench and took the long way around the park. The leafless arms of so many trees reached into the cold air, leaving strange shadows on the ground. Years ago there’d been some sculptures of ants made from aluminum and placed as if climbing up one of the trees, and Lil wondered what had happened to them. One by one they’d been stolen and then took up residence on someone’s desk or in someone’s basement. Soon they’d be thrown into a box with other dust collectors and in another ten years they’d all start showing up at thrift stores, most people having forgotten where they came from. It would be nice to collect them all and place them back in the park. She made a mental note to buy them if they ever did start appearing in the shops.

She made her way around the park and to Jack’s Place. It was busy with the lunch time rush of people, and the windows of the café were steamy with condensation when she arrived. After ordering tea and soup, she found a small table to sit at. The morning newspaper was lying there and Lil read it through as she waited for her lunch. They were slow in getting it to her, and then forgot to bring a spoon when they did. Lil had to go up to the counter and butt to the front of the line to get one. At least the soup was good and her favourite — chick peas with rosemary. It was hot, so she ate it slowly in small sips from her spoon.

She was interrupted by Old Jim’s sudden appearance at her table. “How is it?” he asked.

Lil spilled soup down her chin and reached for a napkin to wipe it. “Shit, you startled me," she said. “It’s good. Here, pull up a chair.” She motioned to the empty chair across from her. “You don’t usually come down here for lunch.”

Old Jim sat down at the table. “No, you have to let them know if you ever leave the yard but I just wanted to get out of there for a while today. Everyone’s gettin’ all worked up and talkin’ strike. People jockeying for position and all that. Seemed better just to come down here and stay out of it.”

“Life in the rail yard, eh?”

“Yeah," Jim nodded. "Everyone’s starting to lose their heads and suddenly guys who were buddies are arguing with each other because one’s a manager or they see things differently. I mean, there’s some stuff that could improve, I guess. I kinda feel like I haven’t been there long enough to really know. But it’s not really my sort of scene. And if it comes to a vote, it’s still a ways off. A lot could happen between now and then,” he paused as the waitress placed his lunch on the table in front of him, spilling the soup as she did so.

“Nice service. At least she brought you a spoon,” Lil said and shook her head as the waitress was walking away. "I don't know where Jack gets some of these people."

“It’s no big deal,” Jim said and wiped the table with a napkin. “Anyhow, it’s nice to get out and have something good to eat.”

He dipped his sandwich into his soup and took a hearty bite, chewing slowly and purposefully. The two of them ate their lunches quietly for a while, Lil still scanning the newspaper folded in half on the table. She let out a snort of laughter, pointing to a small article.

“There’s a little blurb here about the city asking people to nominate special trees throughout the city to add to its “Trees of Significance” list.” She smirked. “It says, 'Is it big? Is it historical? Is it interesting?' bla, bla, bla," she laughed again. “Of all the things they could be doing, but whatever, I guess it’s all right. It makes me laugh— 'Is it big? Is it interesting?' ”

“Why, yes Miss, it is,” Old Jim answered in a smarmy voice. “I’m not sure if it’s historical, though,” he added.

Lil let out a whoop of laughter and covered her mouth with the napkin in her hand. “You never know, it might be to Katey,” he said.

“We can hope,” Jim laughed. His face turned slightly red and he went back to eating his soup.

The city took its trees seriously. Originally, the land where Regina grew was flat grassland for as far as the eye could see. Perfect grazing land for giant herds of bison and pronghorns but not so perfect for settlers who wanted a modern metropolitan city. They worked the land, manipulated it to create what they desired. A city worthy of its name. A future home for the people who would flock to their envisioned hub of the west. The hundreds of thousands of trees throughout the area were planted by hand, turning the city into a beautiful prairie oasis. Elms dot the yards and streets, willows weep alongside the creek, splendorous maples spring up with reserved patriotism. They’ve all been there so long now that you’d never imagine what it once looked like. You’d never imagine the vast nondescript flatness that once spread out in all directions farther than you can see. Canadian prairie before wheat, before parcels and fences. Nothing of any significance to make the spot stand out aside from some piles of bones and a small creek snaking its way through the land on its way to the Qu’appelle River.

“Hey, do you know where Johnny Fish is by any chance?” Lil suddenly asked.

“I think he’s up in Duck Lake visiting family or something. You’re not looking for him, too, are you?”

“No. Just asking for Pepe. Seems everyone thinks he’s somewhere else, though. It’s hard to know with that guy. He’s a bit of a shyster isn’t he? I imagine he’s pro’lly up to something.”

“Good ol’ Johnny Fish, eh?" Old Jim smiled. " You just never know. He’s all right though. . . .”

“Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t say anything. I don't really know him that well,” Lil said, looking away. "How is it living with Pepe?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "What do you mean?"

"I was just wondering. He asked me about staying at my place for a while when he's done at yours."

"It just kind of caught me off guard that he asked. So I was just wondering if he was in the way, or . . . you know . . . he's kind of moody and just so . . . Pepe."

"Yeah. I hear you, but no it's all right. I'm more surprised he's thinking of moving on already." Old Jim wiped his mouth and beard with his hand and checked the big clock on the wall behind the counter. “Time for me to get back. Good bumping into you.”

“You too. Don’t get too wound up about things up there.”

“I promise I won’t.”

Lil waved and went back to reading the paper, smiling again as she reread the tree article. Her concentration came and went as she went through the rest of the paper, reading for a while and sitting thoughtfully for a while, watching the blurry images of people outside through the steamy windows. She mentally rebutted articles and quotes. She crumpled up her napkin and placed it in the empty soup bowl. She still had a few hours to kill until her shift started and had no plans for the rest of the day. Winter is too long in Saskatchewan, she thought. I bet they’re out for strolls along the beaches in Vancouver. At any rate it’ll be over soon and the sun in the last couple days has been a nice change.

A waitress cleared the dishes from the table and Lil got up to leave. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and pulled her touque over her ears as she got outside. She’d wander around town for a bit before going home and getting ready for work. I’m going to have to do something with this staticy hair of mine, she thought. A traffic light stopped her and she fiddled with her package of cigarettes, finally lighting one and being careful to blow the smoke away from the people around her.

She noticed Jack the café owner on the other side of the street. He was carrying a few bags of groceries. She gave him a cheery smile and waved at him as they passed.

“How you doing Lil?” he asked and smiled back at her as they passed.

Lil wandered through downtown a bit more but couldn’t be bothered to check out any shops. Looking in the windows would do. One of the mannequins she saw wore a maroon, knitted beret. She thought about buying it and imagined how it would suit her as she looked at her reflection in the window. She began to walk toward the door but changed her mind and turned around, deciding that her touque was good enough, and besides, she had lots of other stylish hats at home that she never wore. She didn’t need another.

For the time being, it was a nice day to walk. It was cool out but the sunshine had some springtime heat and she was warm in her winter outfit. She thought again about work — maybe she was wasting her time, too. Hopefully, it would be a busy night and go by quickly.

She was antsy. She fiddled with the keys in her pockets. She fiddled with her cigarette lighter. She smoked way more cigarettes than normal. Maybe it was just the changing of the seasons. Her intuition told her something was coming and it played on her mind.

]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_2Sun, 11 Dec 2016 00:00:00 -0800Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsChapter 1...http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_1...
Pepe lay flat on a log on the bank of Wascana Creek. In his hand was a biography of Gabriel Dumont but he’d stopped reading and instead he stared up at a stark blue prairie winter sky. It was the end of March and in Regina winter was finally coming to a finish but Pepe already wore shorts and flip-flop sandals. He didn’t care about the cold anymore. He was sick of it. He did wear his heavy parka though, so he must’ve cared somewhat, but he told himself he didn’t.

A clear sky in late winter arrives like a gift and the sun shoots across the world sideways, lighting it up as if the entire day were dawn. Pepe sat up and enjoyed the way it all looked to him. Birds and little creatures twittered through the trees and along the frost lined shore hoping for a snack from the human in their midst. He didn’t know their names but they made the world a better place, as they looked at you with dark, curious eyes deciding if you were friend or foe. He thought about walking to the Albert St. Bridge and having a look around, but the thought of hot coffee and something to eat seemed like a better idea. He tucked his book inside his jacket. He’d bought it at a used book store and it was well worn and dog-eared.

He scrambled up the frozen ground, through the trees and bushes and headed downtown to Jack’s Place. He cut through people’s yards on his way until he reached the streets and cars of downtown that forced him onto the squared man-made routes of the sidewalks. Patches of slippery ice from snow piled up over winter made him walk carefully. The flip-flops on his feet didn’t have much traction.

When Pepe arrived at the café Jack himself was behind the counter tidying and arranging things. He was a funny little guy with wisps of grey hair around and in his ears. Always wearing a fresh white apron when he was at work, he looked every bit the part of café owner. He went through multiple aprons in a day- when one became stained with coffee or coffee grounds he swapped it with a new one. To expect the same from his staff would’ve cost him a bundle in cleaning bills so he had them wear black aprons instead. Jack had become close to Pepe and his group of friends when they were teenagers looking for a hang out. He kept an eye on them trying to not let them get caught up in too much trouble, being a soundboard when they did.

“Americano?” Jack asked, pointing at Pepe and predicting his drink.

“Yeah, and something to eat,” Pepe answered as he looked into the sandwich cooler beside the counter. Nothing inside it grabbed his fancy. “Maybe just one of those big oatmeal cookies I guess," he said, pointing to the tray on the counter.

On either side of it’s entrance the café had large windows facing out onto the street. As you walked in there was a ledge along the window to the left with stools to sit at and watch the passers by. A few steps in stood the counter and the chrome and glass sandwich cooler. On the right there were tables and chairs set up throughout until the back of the room where four worn leather arm chairs were arranged in front of a stone framed gas fireplace. The walls were charcoal grey except behind the counter where they were accented with a light coffee colour. It seemed like an appropriate choice to Jack when he painted it a couple years earlier and the whole place looked great with the wood and chrome of the tables and counters. On one of those counters sat his prized Mirage Duette Idrocompresso espresso maker. One of the best that money could buy and judging by the coffee and the people lining up to get some it was well worth it. Jack would talk your ear off about the machine if you got him started, expounding about the superior flavour and aesthetic of hand-pumped espresso.

Pepe sat down on a stool at the window ledge watching the heated conversation of two men outside on the sidewalk, both of them waving their hands in the air until finally going their separate ways, each shaking their heads at the other. Pepe watched as they went before grabbing a section of a newspaper that lay on the ledge and flipping through it, reading only the first few sentences of the articles that grabbed his attention, frowning before folding it up and pushing it aside. He stared out the window as his mind wandered. The café was one of his favourite places but he usually sat near the fireplace, turning the chair a little so that he surveyed the rest of the room, the art on the walls, and the carrying-ons of other customers.

Jack brought Pepe his americano and cookie. “I’m pouring great coffee today. It’s a shame to add all that hot water to those shots. You should just enjoy a nice espresso,” he said and sipped imaginary espresso from a tiny imaginary espresso cup- enjoying it almost as much as if it were real.

He paused and looked at Pepe. “You’re itchy,” he said. “You look itchy. You getting itchy?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What are you doing? When are you leaving or are you still planning on leaving?”

“Oh man, I don't know. Soon maybe.” Pepe shook his head and frowned.

Jack nodded then strolled through the rest of the café picking up used napkins, and dirty cups, and wiping tables, giving Pepe his space

“Anybody been around?” Pepe asked him. “Johnny Fish hasn’t been around by any chance?”

Jack shook his head quietly to himself before answering. “Someone said Johnny’s over in Qu’Appelle," he said. “Lil was in just for a bit yesterday. I didn’t get a chance to talk to her though.”

Pepe nodded. He gulped at his americano and swallowed his cookie in huge bites, crumbs falling onto the ledge. He stared out the window watching uninterested as people went this way and that. He halfway listened to the music playing in the café. He was itchy. He’d been itchy for a long time but never got around to doing anything about it until about a month ago when he decided to leave town or do something else- he wasn’t sure where or what yet.

He finished the last of his coffee and got up and placed his dishes on the counter. “Alright thanks eh, Jack”.

"That's it? You're going?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, I don't feel like sitting around."

“All right, take it easy then,” Jack nodded. He stopped wiping up behind the counter and watched as Pepe headed out into the street. “And put some clothes on, it’s cold out there,” he called. "And brush your hair."

Pepe gave a half smile and a wave as the door closed behind him. It was late morning and the streets and sidewalks were calm before the upcoming rush of lunch time traffic and all the hungry people who would be quickly searching out someplace to eat. Where the sun peeked around buildings stark shadows appeared on the sidewalk and street. Pepe’s own shadow lay out in front of him. He followed it along the streets of downtown. Wherever it went- it didn’t matter. He had nothing to do and everything to do. He’d quit his job, he’d moved out of his apartment and was couch surfing with friends until he decided what exactly his next step would be.

He walked around the block and thought again of heading to the Albert St. Bridge to have a good look around. To look out over the lake or blank out as the traffic roared passed. That was his spot- he liked going there and letting his mind wander, but today he couldn’t decide. Maybe he’d drop by Lil’s place and see what she was up to. He didn't want to but he did want to talk to her about a place to stay for a while when it became time to move on from Old Jim and Katey’s.

Lil waitressed at a funky little restaurant called The Magpie downtown on Scarth St. and she rented a basement suite a few blocks from there. Pepe made his way but walked passed before making up his mind and turning back. She answered in her worn housecoat when Pepe knocked on her door, peeking suspiciously through the crack as she opened it.

“Hey!” she smiled, seeing who it was. “What are you doing here? Come on in.” Lil’s voice was hoarse. She talked a lot with her customers and some nights stayed up late drinking with them afterwards. She cleared her throat before continuing. “The coffee’s fresh if you want a cup.”

“Sure, yeah, of course,” Pepe answered and he threw his coat over a chair in the kitchen.

Lil handed him a cup of coffee and then laughed “Flip-flops?” She topped up her own cup of coffee and then stirred in some milk and copious amounts of sugar. “That’s quite the outfit.” She looked him up and down with a smirk. “What you up to?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Not much. Just wandering.”

Pepe pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. Lil joined him.

“It looks like a nice day for it," she said motioning towards the window with her chin. “Maybe I should get myself together and get out there. Pardon my hair and face by the way. It was a rough one last night.” Lil lit a cigarette and turned her head to blow the smoke away from Pepe.

“Yeah, I’m sleepin’ on Old Jim’s couch these days, maybe Katey told you, so I haven’t been getting much sleep either lately,” Pepe said. “I don’t know how old that thing is. I think they got it from Jim’s Mom. I don't wanna bother them for too long so I'll probably be looking for a new place to stay in week or so. Do you think you might have room on your couch?”

“Uh sure, yeah I guess. Let me know. The neighbours upstairs are a bit nosey but I wouldn't worry too much about them. Pro’lly got their ears to the floor right now," she laughed and raised a finger towards the ceiling and the people living above her.

“Why’d you move out of the place you were in anyhow?” she asked.

“I don’t know- maybe it was kinda stupid. I couldn’t pay rent without a job. And I just hated those roommates. You met them. It was just like… Oh man, I don’t know," Pepe looked away. " It's like, you know, if you stay living with guys like that for too long you just end up becoming an alcoholic or something. It would be too easy for me to fall into… And I don't know- it's like they're just a bunch of dead end guys from that dead end job and I don't wanna keep going on like that- not sure what I wanna do really but not that, and I only ever lived with them because they were looking for a roommate when I started work and it made for cheap rent.”

“Don’t you think you should’ve hung onto it a bit longer? Until you were a bit more organized?”

“Maybe.” Pepe paused. “Nah, I just had to get out of there. I just need to get on with something. Or maybe I shoulda stuck with the job and found a new place. I don’t know.”

“Coulda, shoulda,” Lil said.

Pepe looked down towards the mug in his hands.

“You don’t have any plans though do you?” she asked.

Pepe looked towards the window above the sink and shrugged. “Nope. I’d like to get going somewhere, doing something but seems like I’ve gotta get organized here first. I’m hoping to track down Johnny Fish before I leave town. If I leave town. Jack said he’s over in Qu’Appelle.”

“Are you sure it’s Qu’Appelle and not Fort Qu’Appelle? He was talking about Fort Qu’Appelle some time when I saw him. What do you want to see him for? Can’t you just do whatever you need to do?”

“It'd just be nice to see him before taking off and it would be good to bounce a few ideas around. He’s usually got a good idea- usually a bit crazy, but still a good idea. I don’t know what it is, but for me something’s not right. Something’s bugging me but I can’t figure it out- you know.” He looked into the black coffee in his cup, swirled it around before downing the final mouthful.

“I just blame it on the seasons. Winter’s slow in ending and spring’s slow in coming. This time of year is always like some sort of seasonal limbo. But I’ll grant you there does seem to be something in the air. Maybe I read too much news but it seems like everything’s going to shit. Like the city or the province or the country or the world’s going to hell. Pro’lly all of it but it starts small first I think. It starts here. I’d join you if I knew what to do.” Lil blanked her cigarette in a tin can on the table. “You want to go get some lunch someplace?”

“Sure.” Pepe shrugged.

“The pub?”

“Sure.”

Lil finished her own coffee and cleared their mugs from the table, placing them in the sink and filling each with water. After taking a few minutes to get herself ready, she and Pepe walked the few blocks back downtown. They ate hamburgers and spent the afternoon shooting pool until it was time for Lil’s four o’clock shift to start. Pepe walked with her to the restaurant.

“So it’s okay if I get in touch when it’s time to move on from Jim and Kate’s?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. For sure. And I’ll keep an eye out for your friend Johnny.” Lil waved with a flutter of her fingers and went inside.

Pepe stood by the door of the restaurant for a moment wondering what to do. It was dusk and definitely cold out now. There was no way of denying it and no way of pretending not to care. Pepe’s feet were freezing and he wished he would’ve worn pants and socks and shoes. “What was I thinking?” he asked himself. It would be a long walk to Old Jim’s apartment later in the night and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

For now he decided on going back to Jack’s Place for a bowl of soup and another coffee. It was nearby and he walked there quickly. His legs and toes tingled when he entered the warmth of the café. Jack had gone home for the night and there was a new girl working there- a part-timer for the evening shift. She frowned when she saw Pepe come in. Looking him up and down trying to figure out what sort he was. Working with her was one of the long time workers, a guy named Lenny.

“Hey Lenny,” Pepe said as he walked up to the counter.

“Oh, hey.”

Pepe ordered and the two of them chatted while the new girl made the coffee and Lenny ladled out a bowl of soup.

Pepe crossed the room to his usual spot in the nice comfy chair by the fire. It’ll be good to warm up as much as possible he thought and he put the bowl and mug down on the little side table. He flipped through a newspaper, reading the funnies and the auto section while eating his supper. The soup was good and after finishing his bowl, Pepe folded up the newspaper and placed it on the table beside him. He stretched out comfortably in the chair, took his book from his coat and began reading again. He’d pause now and then to muse certain parts of Dumont’s life or to wonder about other customers who were coming and going. What were their plans? How would they change the world if they could or were they quite content? Lil was right though- it starts small. Everything grows from a seed.

Lenny came by to clear Pepe’s soup bowl. “What you reading?” he asked.

Pepe held up the book to show him the cover. Lenny leaned in to read it and then shrugged.

"Dumont was a Metis leader back in the 1800's."

“Is it good?” Lenny asked.

“Yeah, it's kinda interesting- not something I'd usually read, but yeah I think it's important.” “Did I tell you about the trip I’m planning? Gonna go to Australia in July. Just gonna keep working and saving up until then.”

“Weren't you going to school or something?”

“I was, but I dropped it. Maybe I’ll pick it up again next fall. How about you? You still leaving town?”

“Not sure,” Pepe shrugged.

“You’re pretty good at fixin’ cars eh? That’s what Jack mentioned.”

“I don't know about that, but I guess I kinda know what I’m doing.”

“Good, yeah. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it sometime?”

“Sure, no problem. Is it here?” Pepe looked outside and moved to get up from his chair.

“No, I took the bus today. It’s just parked in the driveway at home. Makes an awful sound somewhere in the front end so I thought it’d be best just to park it.”

“Yeah, well let me know. I…” Pepe began but another customer came into the café and Lenny went to the counter to serve them.

Pepe watched for a moment as Lenny began to make the customers drink. He put his book on the table, facedown open to the page he was on. He stared at the fire and let his eyes lose focus remembering for a moment the blue sky of earlier in the day. A sky like that makes you think anything’s possible, everything’s wide open, life is up for grabs. Like nowhere else the prairie sky encompasses you. You look around and there is little else: the ground under your feet and then up, up, up- air, sky, space. Nothing stops it as it goes on forever and you become a part of it. And on a clear summer night with perhaps only the smallest sliver of a moon and the stars of the milky way sparkling and moving around you, if you don’t feel humbled as a part of this beautiful universe then you need to stay a while. Look again the next night and again the next. Perhaps modern living has made you feel big and important. Camp out on the prairie and get some of its medicine in you. Let its big sky pull you up into it's bosom and come back to Earth a little better for it.

Pepe shook his head, waking up from his reverie. He buzzed his lips and ran his fingers through his shaggy rust coloured hair. He needed a hair cut. He looked around the room and watched Lenny and the new girl working before returning his gaze unsatisfactorily to the fire. It was nice but the gas flames lacked something. He watched it with an increasing disappointment that slowly burrowed under his skin. He let his mind wander again- another cup of coffee, more reading and daydreaming and an hour later he was ready to head home.]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/chapter_1...Sat, 10 Sep 2016 00:00:00 -0700Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsLeland and Rufushttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/leland_and_rufus
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Or do you?” “What?”

This is how most conversations with Leland went. Leland being the one asking “or do you?”. He had an un-nerving way of getting under your skin and disarming you until you really did have no idea what he, or yourself was talking about and you left the interaction off balance and bewildered.

The Haunt was a favourite local coffee shop with tasty treats and comfy chairs. University students got buzzed on coffee, laughed with friends, and surfed the net in an attempt to keep their minds from what they should be doing. Office and shop workers from the area got buzzed on coffee, laughed with friends, and surfed the net in an attempt to keep their minds from what they should be doing. And the unemployed got buzzed on coffee, laughed with friends, and surfed the net.

It was a cold October day so with all the hot air blowing around The Haunt the windows had fogged up and it was because of this that no one saw Leland coming until it was too late. The door opened, the little bell attached ding-a-linged and half the noses in the place were immediately engrossed in books and laptops. The other half (a little slow on the uptake) took a quick peek around to see who it was and then followed suit. Unfortunately for Rufus, he had his iPod plugged into his ears and didn’t hear the door ring, or the sudden quiet of the room. He didn’t know Leland was there until he was already at Rufus’ table asking to sit down.

“Er, uh…” sensing defeat Rufus motioned Leland to pull up a chair.

And now there was great relief throughout the room. Everyone relaxed, looked around smiling at each other and got happily back to doing what they shouldn’t have been. Only Rufus closed the note pad in front of him and put away his head phones as he prepared himself for the inevitable.

It must be said that Leland wasn’t a total disaster. Good hair, clean teeth, well dressed, well read on a multitude of topics, and up to date on a myriad of current events. It was these multitudes and myriads that did get annoying. A little too much nit picking and detailing of minutiae along with second guessing of everyone else and a bad habit of talking in riddles were the real reasons most everyone was glad to be off the hook for the time being.

For the moment Leland was at the counter ordering coffee, which he knew he wanted, and discussing the ingredients of various goodies, which he wasn’t sure if he wanted. The girl behind the counter humoured him with all the information he could ever want about the cookies, squares, and cakes that sat in the glass cooler. She'd baked them all herself and even told Leland how long and at what temperatures each had been in the oven for. She was really quite nice and used to his strange questions so answered them all with a cheery smile. After some moments of deliberation Leland settled on a large oatmeal cookie, he took that and then fixed his coffee with cream and sugar and made his way back across the room to where Rufus sat waiting and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Got a headache?" Leland asked him.

"What? No, just a little stressed." Rufus said and he put his glasses back on.

"You should maybe drink a nice herbal tea then and cut down on your caffeine in this place."

"Yeah, I don't know. What kind of cookie did you get?"

"Oatmeal. 15 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit."

Rufus fidgeted in his seat. "Yeah?"

"You ever do any baking? I like baking every now and then. I love a good date square. Do you like date squares? You remember that other coffee shop that used to be down the street with the really good date squares? They had a great macaroni too! You know I had my first cappuccino at that place. Loved it, but thinking back I wonder if it was really that good. I mean it was before the big coffee craze ever took over and it was before I knew anything about coffee and I wonder if it would still stand up to a taste test now. No way of knowing really, but those were good date squares and macaroni." Leland paused and dipped a chunk of cookie into his coffee before eating it and slurping from his mug.

"Oats are good for you though" Leland continued.

"Yeah, yeah that's true." Rufus fidgeted in his seat.

"High in fibre, they lower cholesterol and are high in B vitamins. Samuel Johnson didn't like them though. Thought they were only good for horses. You ever read any Samuel Johnson? Dr. Johnson?" Leland paused and slurped more coffee. "I had to read a bit in an English Literature class. You know I always thought it was Hunter S. Thompson who said "He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man" but it was really Samuel Johnson. Seems crazy a guy way back then saying something like that, but you really picture Hunter driving through the desert with an ether soaked rag by his feet yelling out at passing cars "He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man"! But old Doc Johnson was alright. Don't let that picture with the powdered wig fool you." Leland pounded his hand on the table and laughed startling the rest of the room who just as quickly returned to their own business trying to not catch Leland's eyes. "He gets a bit of bad rap for being boring because he wrote a dictionary but he did some other good stuff too."

Leland popped the last of his cookie into his mouth and then took another loud slurp of coffee. Rufus took a sip of his own coffee and then removed his glasses again to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Stress is a killer." Leland said to him. "I'm telling you, herbal teas are what you need."

"Yeah, herbal tea. I know. I like a nice mint tea now and then. Even chamomile." Rufus said and replaced his glasses.

"Chamomile's good." Leland injected. "But you have to watch your stress. Situations and people that cause you stress. What were you listening to when I came in? Music can sometimes really key you up too. And diet. Don't forget diet. Those oats we were talking about are full of complex carbohydrates, they digest slowly and stabilize blood glucose levels. Stay away from those date squares and probably even the macaroni and cheese unless the macaroni is whole wheat, but even then... And that chamomile tea is good, don't get me wrong, but there's some good herbs that work really well at fighting stress. Rosemary is high in antioxidants and has B vitamins like them oats. Oregano's another good herb to make a tea out of and basil as well. Basil even keeps demons away."

]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/leland_and_rufusWed, 22 Feb 2012 00:00:00 -0800Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsDifferences Between Hybridization and Genetic Modificationhttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/differences_between_hybridization_and_genetic_modification
The difference between Hybridized and Genetically Modified foods is often confusing for people. Many believe that people have been genetically modifying things for thousands of years when in reality we have only been hybridizing. What is the difference and why are the waters so murky? Does the difference even matter or are we just splitting hairs? People are rightly concerned about the safety and healthiness of their foods as can be seen by the increased demand for organic and in this same way we should be concerned about the differences between hybridization and genetically modified organisms (GMO's). Hybridization is a natural process that can be controlled by man while genetic modification is a completely lab-made process that threatens not only the existence of organic foods and thereby our health, but also the sovereignty of people over their food supply.

Hybridization is a process that has been happening naturally throughout the existence of life on earth. Whenever two plants cross pollinate or when two animals reproduce a form of hybridization occurs. The same process that determines the colour of your eyes or hair is essentially a hybridization. Your DNA remains completely human but dominant and recessive genes that you inherit from your parents produce your specific traits be they tall, short, blue eyed or brown haired. The same thing occurs in nature when two plants from the same family cross pollinate. If a large watery tomato is crossed with a small meaty tomato you mighty luckily end up with a large, meaty tomato. The DNA is still completely a tomato but different characteristics have been triggered. This cross pollination could be made possible by a bee, a backyard farmer with a cotton swab, or even by the wind but as long as the two plants are in the same family it can and does occur naturally. One thing of note about hybridization is that it doesn't always result in a line of the new hybrid that will continue with the same characteristics. For example, seed saved from our new large, meaty tomato may revert to producing plants with the characteristics of it's parents (large, watery or small, meaty) therefore if we continually want our large, meaty tomato we would need to keep cross-pollinating the parents plants in order to get the desired seed. As often as not seed from the hybridized plant will continue to produce the desired outcome and hybridization has led to a great number of the favourite foods we have been growing and eating for centuries.

Genetic Modification is an entirely man-made procedure where as the name implies, the genetic code of the organism is changed. The genetic change can be made between plants of the same family or by inserting DNA information from a completely different plant (or animal) into the DNA of another. Once made the new change is dominant and forever and any descendants from the organism will carry the modification within their DNA. It is important to understand that the changes made in genetic modification become dominate traits and that if a natural cross-pollination occurs via the wind, or by a bee, etc. between the GMO and a non-GMO plant the resulting plant will be genetically modified- there is no going back. How the new genetic information is placed into the DNA is also incredibly important as to do so they need a vector (or carrier) and what they use is either bacteria or a virus and this bacteria or virus remains as part of the new DNA passed down from generation to generation (except in the case of a genetic modification resulting in Terminator Seeds which are completely infertile). If we go back to using tomato's as an example, in order to make a frost resistant type, the anti-freeze transgene from a Winter Flounder (yes, a fish) was placed into the DNA of a tomato via bacteria. Other modifications are made to make plants resistant to certain herbicides but one result has been that the weeds we wanted to rid ourselves of with the herbicides have now also mutated and become resistant Super Weeds. One final note of importance regarding genetically modified seed is that they are patented and owned by corporations, making it no longer legal for individuals to save seed or share seed with their neighbours from one harvest to the next.

It's in the interest of certain corporations to keep the differences between hybridization and genetic modification muddy. The misinformed view that we have been genetically modifying things for centuries helps create an atmosphere of nonchalance. The fact is that there is a huge difference between the two and that genetic modification has the potential to have disastrous effects on our future food health and supplies as well as the loss of food sovereignty from individuals to corporations while hybridized foods pose no hazard to any of these things. Genetically modified seed is sold to us under the guises of higher yields which has proven to be untrue, and less use of pesticides which has also proven to be untrue and as Grandma always says "if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is".]]>http://trevorcaswell.com/words/differences_between_hybridization_and_genetic_modificationSun, 12 Feb 2012 00:00:00 -0800Trevor Caswell | Purveyor of fine roots music | WordsHector and the Egghttp://trevorcaswell.com/words/hector_and_the_egg
Struggling inside the goose, Hector discovered a golden egg. “We’ll be rich and famous!” he thought as he excitedly took it home to his wife Maria.

“Oh Hector!” she exclaimed after seeing the egg. “We’ll be rich and famous!”

Days, months, and years past. Maria said to Hector every second day. “Why aren’t we rich and famous?!” Hector shrugged his shoulders every second day, and ate his soup with a bitter grimace.

Maria hung the clothes on the line. All the while wondering to herself, “Why aren’t we rich and famous.” She cooked the evening meal, and washed the dishes wondering, “Why aren’t we rich and famous.” But what could they do. Her lacking Ingrid Bergman's looks and Edie Brickell's voice and Hector simply lacking. What could they do…

Maria pondered the question endlessly but the problem was bigger than her, the problem may even have been bigger than the goose, and it was certainly bigger than the egg. The Egg! That was the problem. No one knew about the egg. There had been one article in the local newspaper which featured a front page photo of Hector, Maria and the egg, but it was never picked up by the National Press and the egg looked rather regular in black and white. There had been mention of a fluff piece on provincial television news but that went up in smoke with the invention of the flying typewriter.

There followed days and weeks of hand-wringing and pacing and evenings of prayers. Even Hector spent many an evening with his elbows solidly on the kitchen table while pulling at his great, greying beard. Finally one night after putting the cat to bed Maria had an idea.

"What we need" she exclaimed to Hector "is a goose egg of finer stuff! Perhaps a diamond egg, or a ruby egg" she waved her hands frantically "or an emerald egg would go lovely with my eyes. I think you need to get back to struggling Hector. We've been moping around for far too long. You need to get back inside that goose and if that doesn't work try chickens, ducks, any fowl you can find. I'd even settle for a platinum hummingbird egg."

Hector harumphed, but he did like to make his wife happy, so up he got and out in the world he began to struggle again. Wouldn't you know it, it wasn't long before Hector made good. Not a fancier egg like Maria had hoped but another golden egg and he took it back to her triumphantly. "We'll be rich and famous this time for sure! Two golden eggs!!" he rubbed his hands together.

Another black and white picture of the two of them and their eggs in the local paper was the only publicity they got. In fact this egg seemed to be attracting less attention than the first. Nary a neighbour came to call nor a priest to visit. And so early one morning when Hector had had enough he went to the kitchen and found the sharpest paring knife he could find. He placed the eggs on the counter and began to slice. He etched a picture of the Queen on one side of each slice and after that he etched a Loon on each of the other sides. Happy with his work Hector put the slices in his pocket and walked into town.

It wasn't too long before Hector returned. Two extra large steaming hot coffees and two chocolate croissants in hand. He sat down in the kitchen with Maria. A more enjoyable breakfast than the two of them had had in many a long time. Afterwards Hector dusted himself off and pulled down the hatchet that hung on the wall by the back door before striding out into the yard.